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I hesitate, still trying to make sense of everything that is unfolding. But fog blankets my mind.
He presses the dagger even more firmly against me. The force is enough to penetrate my skin. I feel a bead of blood trickling down. Fear pulses through me.
My fate lies within his hands. If he wants me dead, then I will be dead in mere instants. Long before I can scream for mercy.
“Don’t test me again. Do it now.”
Though my mind was beginning to suspect this may really be Arluin, now I am far less certain. I don’t recognize the murderous glint in his eyes. The longing for blood. For death.
All I can believe is that if I hesitate any longer, he will kill me. The crimson line he has etched across my neck is proof of that.
I close my eyes and imagine my father in as much detail as I can: his fiery hair and beard, his bushy brows of the same auburn hue, his indigo robes with flashes of golden thread, and his glowing magenta eyes.
When my mental image is complete, I release the spell. “Aminex.”
My father answers immediately. “Reyna?” There’s an urgency to his tone, or at least his projected thoughts. The last time I contacted him via a mind-link was on the night the necromancers stormed the city. When Heston murdered my mother. “Where are you?”
“On...on top of the Aether Tower.”Even in my thoughts, my words come out shaky.
“Why are you up there?”
“Arluin. He—”
My father doesn’t wait for me to finish. He severs our mind-link before I can explain everything to him. Before I can warn him.
When I open my eyes, he’s already emerging from a cloud of purple light.
His form becomes corporeal. The violent winds pull at his magnificent robes. His magenta eyes fix upon Arluin, upon the dagger pressed to my neck, and they blaze with uncontrollable fury.
“Take your wretched hands off my daughter,” he roars.
Though my father’s voice booms across the Aether Tower, disturbing even the relentless winds, Arluin doesn’t flinch. He only sneers. “I will do as I please with your daughter. Perhaps I will kill her and raise her from the dead.”
My heart stills. I try not to tremble in his grasp, try not to show how terrified I am.
“You would not dare,” my father seethes.
“You don’t believe I would? Then it seems I must demonstrate my sincerity.”
He presses the dagger further into my skin. A cry of pain bubbles in my throat as the scratch deepens. More blood wells out.
My father blanches. “Stop!”
Arluin’s hand loosens around the dagger’s hilt, removing the pressure he was applying. But the blade doesn’t leave my flesh. “What’s the matter? Can you not bear the sight of her blood?”
His fingers graze my neck and soak up the blood pooling beneath the dagger. He holds up his hand, inspecting the crimson smear. My blood glitters under the light of the Aether Tower’s orb.
“I, for one, think it is quite the remarkable sight. It is almost as radiant as she is.” Arluin brings his stained fingers to his nose and inhales deeply. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if we allowed all that lovely blood to spill out? What a waste it would be.” I barely hear Arluin’s words. His voice sounds so distant.
My father’s knuckles whiten with strain as he grips his staff. “State your price.”
“What I ask for in return is a simple thing.”
“Then say it,” my father spits.
Arluin tilts back his head, peering up at the thunderous orb of magic above us. “The Aether Tower. I want you to deactivate it. Entirely.”
“You will let her go first.”
